Love Lost - Chapter 1

The alarm on my phone goes off. I sigh. Another lonely morning. More specifically, another morning without him. I shake my head. I really need to get over him.

“It has been nearly four years since you last saw him, Alise. Just stop,” I say to myself.

I sit up on the edge of my queen-size bed, place my feet on the hardwood floor, and look around the room. The work I brought home but never took out sits on the gray leather chaise lounge against the red brick wall to the right of my bed. Sheer pale-yellow fabric hangs from the ceiling to the floor in each corner. I love that look and try to do it whenever I can. I only wish they were moving with a light breeze, but all the windows in my two-bedroom loft are in the living room. That’s one of the two things I dislike about my apartment.

A large ivory dresser with an ornately decorated mirror is facing me. Checking out my reflection, I see some of my hair twists have escaped the satin bonnet in my sleep.

I hear the elevator moving—that’s the second thing I don’t like about my apartment. The bedrooms are to the front, sharing a wall with the floor’s main hallway and again, are windowless. The side of the building facing the street is where the living areas are and therefore, the only part of the building to get natural light.

I stretch my arms up to the ceiling and slowly bring them down, caressing my oval-shaped face, neck, shoulders, full breast, and flat stomach. My short, black teddy is the softest sheer satin with ivory lace trim that barely billows out around my hips on the bed. I love the feel of my body and I like to be touched. Unfortunately, I haven’t been touched in years. Last touched by him. He is the only one I want to feel my body again. I get aroused at just the thought of the man I used to submit to and touch myself more. I lay back but stop midway.

“No, Alise.” I sit back up and sigh. I have less than an hour to get ready to go. I don’t have time to pleasure myself right now.

I walk out of the bedroom, into the hallway, pass by the living room, and into the kitchen. I pop a green tea K-cup into my Keurig machine and walk by the black granite top island that is big enough to seat five, and across the living room towards the floor to ceiling windows facing the street. My hand caresses the soft leather of the tan half circle sofa as I walk behind it. I open the purple taffeta and soft pink sheer organza curtains, gathering them together in the hooks on the bricks between each window, then open the windows. The light breeze moving into my apartment makes the ends of the curtains dance to the rhythm of nature.

I look out into waking downtown Flint, Michigan. I can see the city buses turning out of the terminal two blocks to the west. City and county workers are making their way to and from either the coffee or crepe shops just north of my building. The employees of various businesses located downtown are just getting in. Despite the poor reputation for crime, tainted water, and blight in this city, I love my hometown. I wouldn’t live anywhere else.

Returning to the kitchen, I drink my tea while fixing my breakfast of scrambled egg whites with chopped baby spinach, strawberries, turkey bacon, and whole wheat toast. In the last year, I’ve lost nearly 100 pounds. I love my new fit and curvaceous figure. I try to keep it by eating healthy and working out most days. However, I have some early appointments with clients today, so I’ll be skipping the workout this morning.

My boutique and studio are just two blocks away from the Rowe Building in which I stay. The location was a Family Dollar in my teens and a drug store years before that. I purchased it nearly three years ago, to be the store front for Timeless Elegance, both the name of my store and my fashion line. I added a floor for the design studio. Four employees work the storefront, including the manager, my best friend Charlie Evans. There are three dress makers in the work studio, including my other best friend, Joc. Timeless Elegance is my pride and joy.

After five years of driving to and from the Detroit area for classes at The Art Institute for Fashion Design and Management, headaches, tears, and being denied seven times for a business loan until finally getting a yes, I have established a well-known and highly sought-after fashion brand. The storefront sells my designs exclusively. People come from all over the world to purchase one of my ready-to-wear designs or to get a custom design from me.

It’s a beautiful spring day in early May with the sun shining brightly and a light breeze. I walk to work wearing a white wide-legged pants jumpsuit, turquoise peep toe pumps, and a platinum necklace with a single teardrop cut diamond with matching earrings. I carry a cropped black blazer in one hand and a white and turquoise triangle clutch by Fannie Lucille, another fashion brand that started in Flint, in the other. My wild, black natural hair is bouncing with the wind and my walk. The smell of coffee fills the air. I cross the street and walk by the courthouse. There’s a gang of smokers just outside the doors getting those stress relief puffs before they have to go before the judge for their various reasons. I’ve always found smoking to be a disgusting habit.

I’m standing on the corner of Saginaw Street and Third Avenue, waiting for traffic to clear so I can cross the street when I hear three loud knocks coming from my design studio. I look up, and there is my forever glamorous with way too much energy at 9:00 A.M. friend, Joc. He waves at me like I am his most favorite person ever. I shyly wave back and shake my head, hoping the fellow pedestrians on the corner with me haven’t noticed him. He tries to mouth something to me, but I’ve always sucked at reading lips, and he knows this.

I have no clue what he is saying to me. He seems to be happier than usual, which means he must have made headway with the guy he’s been crushing on. I will soon hear all about it either way.

I walk into the boutique and am greeted by Charlie. “Good morning, Alise,” her soprano voice chimes. She walks across the mahogany wood floor towards me as I look around the store.

“Morning, Charlie.” She’s changed the setup. The mannequins throughout the store and in the display windows are all dressed in white, ivory, and soft gold wedding dresses that match the blush pink walls with champagne colored trim perfectly. We hug, and Charlie gives me an unexpected peck on the lips.

“Charlie!” I don’t know why, but I always feel embarrassed when she does that. “I like the new displays. Good job.” She looks around, smiling brightly, proud of her work. The mannequin bridal party in the windows have been a change from the four prom dresses and one bridal gown that had been on display for the last couple of months. “I love the color of that blouse on you,” I say.

Charlie is wearing a classic black pants suit with a bright fuchsia collared top and matching fuchsia flats. Her latte color skin and hazel eyes glow against the bright top. The freckles on her nose and cheeks even seem to glow.

“Thank you,” she replies.

I step back and give her a good look over. Something is different, but in a good way. “Am I missing something? You are glowing. At first, I thought it was the top, but now I’m thinking that the glow is coming from within. Are you giving me another godchild?”

“No! I told you I’m not giving you or Devon another kid. I love Amber, but that was a compromise. But since you asked, Devon had the night off and it was pleasant,” she states.

Choosing to overlook the part about the compromise with her husband about having kids, I congratulate her. “I’m happy to hear that! I don’t need to know what’s been going on with you two, but I’m glad things are going in the right direction again.”

Charlie gives me a bright smile. I’m happy for her, for them both.

“Well, I’m going to head upstairs. My first appointment should be here shortly, and I need to brief the team before that. Who is working the floor with you today?”

“Right now, Rebecca is prepping the dressing rooms for the first of our final fittings. Kitty will be in at noon. It’s a full day. Matter of fact, we don’t have any openings this week.” Kitty is Charlie’s little sister and is studying management and marketing at the University of Michigan-Flint Campus. In opening my business, I made sure to employee those I’m closest to first. Nepotism is my thing since people in my circle are qualified to fill those positions.

“I like the sound of that,” I say with a smile as I head to the stairs leading to the work studio.

It has been busy at Timeless Elegance for the last few months. We operate solely by appointment. With prom season getting ready to end, things will ease up a bit. Dealing with brides and prom moms at the same time is always rough. In a couple of weeks, we’ll be able to focus solely on our brides, and I can start working on designs for next year.

The stairs continue the same color scheme as the store front—mahogany wood stairs and banister with blush pink walls. I open the mahogany wood door at the top of the stairs.

“Good morning Ms. Rogers,” Joc and Kim greet me. Kim is one of my three seamstresses.

“Good morning, ladies and gentleman,” I smile at them both. I look at Mi Ling, my third seamstress, who has more attitude than I like to deal with, but she is too damn good for me to let go. “That included you too, Mi Ling.”

She looks up from her workstation. “Mm-hmm. Good morning, Ms. Rogers,” she says quickly and goes right back to work. Sometimes I really want to ask her what the hell is wrong with her. I look at Joc and Kim, and they both shrug their shoulders.

The studio has mahogany floors with lavender walls and violet purple trim. Just like the storefront, it has floor to ceiling windows. It is a spacious room. Four workstations equipped with two sewing tables, one for a serger and another for a regular sewing machine, make up the work floor. I keep my sewing station on the floor for making samples and runway pieces or when we are so busy that a fourth seamstress is needed. Adjustable mannequins to cover a wide range of sizes are scattered throughout the studio.

The two front workstations are for Joc and me, his being the one closest to the stairs. The other two are for Kim and Mi Ling. My office is at the front of the stairs, facing them and the workstations with a glass panel wall so I can keep an eye on things. Although, I don’t have to step in often as Mi Ling doesn’t let too much fun happen around her. She pops that balloon regularly.

Joc sits his coffee down on his workstation, picks up his work tablet (he’s the only person with one other than me and Charlie), takes my clutch and blazer from me as he does every morning and escorts me into my office. Joc doubles as my personal assistant - a position he appointed himself to. However, I must say Joc is excellent at it and I need one. He doesn’t know it yet, but I’m thinking of looking for another seamstress so I can make him my assistant full-time.

“Okay, Alise. You have---”

“Hold on Joc,” I interrupt. “I just remembered that I need to brief the three of you before my first appointment. It’ll be quick. You’ll still have time to run through my schedule today.” I walk back into the work studio with Joc following closely behind me.

“Everyone, I want to say thank you and a job well done for all the hard work so far this prom season. It’s been the busiest season in our history. Now that it’s almost over, there will be a little of a reprieve. When I say little, I mean little. Charlie informed me this morning that we are fully booked this week, plus I have about five appointments for custom designs in the same time frame.”

“You have eight appointments for custom designs this week,” Joc corrects.

“Joc, whatever will I do without you?” I look at him appreciatively. “Correction, eight appointments and counting! This is looking to be one of our busiest wedding seasons as well. Again, I appreciate everyone for their hard work. Lunch is on me today. Joc will go around a little later to everyone to get their order from 501. That is all.”

Everyone upstairs, including Mi Ling, says “thank you.” Joc and I return to my office. I gather my sketch pad and sketch and color chiseled markers as Joc begins his rundown of today’s schedule.

“As you know, you have a 9:30 appointment with a Gina Marshall for a custom gown for a ball this October. You also have a one o’clock for a custom wedding dress for an October wedding and another at three o’clock for a December wedding. You have two appointments for custom designs tomorrow, as well as an afternoon meeting with the Vehicle City Fashion Week Board for designers to be featured in this year’s fashion show,” Joc says.

“I don’t know if I’m going to do that fashion show this year. I may try to do Nolcha this September if there is still room or the Bridal Fashion Week early next year. Can you get the--”

My office phone rings. “Alise.”

“Ms. Rogers, Gina Marshall is here for her appointment. She’s waiting for you in the consultation room,” Rebecca says.

“Thank you, Rebecca. Offer her a drink, and I will be down shortly.”

“Yes, ma’am.” We both hang up.

“I will send the dates and fees for both shows for you to review.”

“Yes, thank you, Joc,” I say. “You are great at this.”

“I am at your service Madam,” Joc jokes and bows. “Oh, and I have plenty of gossip for you. We can discuss during lunch.”

“Get out of here and get sewing, you,” I chuckle back.

Joc sashays out of my office as only he can. I was so busy with getting ready for my first appointment that until now I didn’t notice his brilliant wardrobe today. His trousers are a white, lime green, electric blue, and orange plaid with an orange belt, electric blue short-sleeve dress shirt, which looks even brighter against his cocoa skin, and lime green dress shoes. It isn’t until he turns around to sit in his chair that I see the lime green with blue polka-dot bow tie. I’m not sure how I missed all of this earlier. Joc could light up a stage with both his personality and outfit. He flips his long, straight black hair over his shoulders. It looks like he has a fresh relaxer.

With his thin mustache and tall willowy frame, Joc looks a lot like Verdine White of Earth, Wind, and Fire. His manicured hands pick up some fabric, and he starts to make work of it. I shake my head and laugh to myself.

Joc and I have known each other since high school. Despite being bullied relentlessly, he has always embraced who he is. Back then, he went by his given name, Jonathan Campbell. Now, after his family disowned him, he goes by Joc Bell. He’s one of the strongest people I know and one of my biggest cheerleaders. I love him dearly.

✽✽✽

The day passes in a blur. Joc keeps me on schedule as I see my clients. The only break I could get was during lunch when Joc made me go with him to pick up the food. It was nice to take a moment to catch up on all things Joc related. I was right—he did finally land a date with his crush.

I let him have his moment, not stopping him. After a few quick bites, it was back to the rest of the workday. Charlie needed some help with final fittings and then we were finished for the day. I was ready for a drink.

Charlie, Joc, and I are at The Cork, a wine and appetizer place located downtown, just up the street from work and my apartment. We are listening to Joc repeat the story he told me earlier over lunch of how he has finally wooed his crush into going out on a date with him this coming weekend. Only Joc can turn what should be a ten-minute story into a thirty-minute tale with all the emotional drama of a soap opera. I laugh all over again like I didn’t hear this story earlier.

Charlie raises her hand and waves when her husband, Devon, comes through the door. He joins us in the back booth and orders a round of drinks and a basket of calamari for everyone. He’s sporting a soft blue dress shirt and black slacks. His diamond crusted cufflinks sparkle as he hugs everyone even though the lights are dim.

Devon went to high school with us, but he wasn’t a part of our group until he and Charlie started dating. Though not nearly as relentlessly as Joc, Devon was also teased in high school. However, it was for being from a mixed family. The bullying mainly came from the “it” boys in school, as many of the girls had a crush on Devon. With his cashew colored skin and curly long brown hair that fell over his green eyes, he was on the top of the list of both the popular and unpopular girls alike.

Now his hair is a short curly coif, and Charlie is the envy of many of the nurses at Hurley Medical Center. Clean shaven, he looks like he hasn’t aged a day since high school.

“So, how was today in the fashion world?” Devon asks.

Joc throws his hands up in the air. “Oh My Gosh! You would not believe how busy we are! We’re fully booked with appointments. There are fashion shows coming up, fabric shopping that needs to be done, not to mention we have to get started on next year’s designs. I really think we need to extend our operating hours by an hour each day and hire another seamstress.”

Everyone at the table sits there and looks at Joc with one eyebrow up.

“What?” he asks with a slight trace of innocence in his voice.

I shake my head at him. “The fashion business is just fine, booming even. Thank you for asking, Devon,” I say while Charlie asks Joc what is wrong with him in a whisper.

Joc raises his shoulders like he did nothing wrong.

“How was your day at work, husband?” Charlie asks.

“Well, wife,” Devon chuckles, “I removed a gallbladder and repaired a spleen. All of my patients are recouping nicely.”

“Look at my husband saving lives,” Charlie says proudly. They really must have had a breakthrough, because she didn’t give him a snide remark.

“People can save their own lives if they would take better care of themselves,” Devon states.

“Very true,” Charlie says.

“Wouldn’t that hurt you?” I ask him. “Well, the medical industry, I mean.”

“No, there are always other reasons to cut. Plus, there’s that beautiful thing called medical research.”

“How is your research for a cure for diabetes coming?” I ask.

“It would move along further if the Chief of Surgery would allow me to give some of my operations to another general surgeon so I could spend more time in the lab. He doesn’t think that curing diabetes is something achievable, so he’s not giving much support for it.”

“But that’s something that can help many people,” Joc says.

Devon shrugs his shoulders. “It doesn’t help hospital and insurance provider pockets.” Changing the subject, Devon then looks at me and says, “Alise, you will never believe who I ran into today?”

“Who?” I asked, puzzled.

“Jaylen Williams.”

Him.

That was not the name I was expecting, though I had no idea who he was going to mention. I try to hide my gasp. Everyone at the table gauges my reaction. Charlie and Joc having a very hushed conversation, which I’m sure is about me.

“Jaylen? Where did you see him at?” I ask, trying and failing to keep the excitement out of my voice.

“Apparently, he opened his gym a couple of years ago. He’d had been talking about doing that for a while, but his divorce from Calondra took a lot out of him financially.”

“I remember that,” I whisper. I don’t know why I’m suddenly breathless. Then again, yes, I do. My heart is racing at just the mention of Jaylen, the man that I loved with everything but never loved me back. I haven’t seen him in nearly four years, and I can honestly say I still love him.

“Some guys at work were talking about playing basketball and I went with them. The gym we played at was Jaylen’s. We started catching up. He remarried three years ago and is already getting a divorce.”

“Oh.” The news of this stings. He never loved me, so for him, there wasn’t anything to move on from. “I didn’t realize the two of you were out of touch. You used to be close. What happened?”

“I asked Jaylen about that because I didn’t know what happened either. He said after he had ended things with you, he thought it would be best to distance himself from me, to spare you.”

“Spare me,” I snap. Now my emotions are all over the place.

“Alise, calm down,” Devon says with his hands up. “He knew he had hurt you. He was trying to keep from hurting you any further.” I take a deep breath. “Jaylen asked about you. He wanted me to tell you ‘hi.’”

“Tell her ‘hi,’” Charlie and Joc say in unison, snapping their necks in Devon’s direction.

“Don’t shoot the messenger!” Devon turns his attention back to me. “He also wanted me to give you this.” Devon passes me a business card. It is Jaylen’s.

“He wrote his cell phone number on the back.”

I caress the card. Jaylen wants me to call him. I sit there looking at the card for what seems to be an eternity. If anyone has said anything to me, I haven’t noticed. I’m feeling so many emotions right now. I’m hopeful and angry. Excited and ridiculously sad. I can’t focus on one, not to mention all the questions running through my head.

Why does he want me to call? Does he really think I would come running back to him after all this time? Does he suddenly want me again because he is going through a divorce, YET AGAIN? Does he finally realize the mistake he made in not giving us a try? I can’t decide if I am going to call him or not.

I lay my head on my arm on top of the table, confused about what to do. How dare he think he can run in and out of my life like this! After all this time, I still love him. He doesn’t deserve my love. I want to cry and scream. I want to call him, but I don’t want to call him. This is the most confused I’ve been in my life.

“Alise?” Joc’s hand is on my shoulder.

Downing the rest of the drink Devon ordered earlier, I quickly get up from the table and head for the door without a word to anyone. I hear Joc ask if he should go after me. I’m assuming they told him no because there aren’t any footsteps behind me when I hit the sidewalk. This is yet another reason I’m glad I live downtown. My home, my haven, is only a block and a half away.

I get inside my building and run to the elevator, pushing the call button manically once I get to it. Hold it together, Alise—just long enough for you to get inside your apartment.

The elevator finally opens for me to step inside. I push the button to the third floor and wrap my arms around myself. Why is the elevator moving so slow?

When I get to my door, I fumble with the keys. Once inside the apartment, I go straight to my room. This is probably the first time I’ve appreciated the three or four steps it takes to get from my front door to my bedroom. I flop down onto the bed and grab a pillow to bury my face in all in one motion. I don’t know what else to do but cry.

This man, he broke my heart. He told me we could never see each other again without giving any reason. I loved him and gave myself to him in ways I had not done with any other. Jaylen introduced me to BDSM, taught me to submit. He dominated, protected, and cared for me. The more I submitted, the more I loved him. I was his “baby girl”, and he was my “Daddy Dom.”

At one point, I thought he loved me back, but it was just an illusion. I cry harder at this thought. I was heavier then—much heavier. Jaylen wasn’t known to have a plus size woman and as far as I’m concerned, he never wanted to be seen with a fuller woman. But it was more than okay to bang a big girl behind closed doors. I was nothing but sex to him. “Oh, the sex!”

In my state of emotional and now horny mess, I quickly remove my jumpsuit, lay back across the bed and begin to massage and pinch my nipples. My mind goes to one of many times my former lover put clamps on them. I pinch them harder and moan. I need to cum now. My left-hand travels south as I open my legs. The wetness between my thighs turns me on even more. Jaylen would be pleased with how wet I am.

I rub on my clitoris, slowly at first. Then memories of how Jaylen would beat into my pussy like he was trying to break me in two comes to mind. I rub faster. My back arches off the bed as I get closer to what I want, what I need. I pinch and pull my right nipple like Jaylen used to.

This pushes me over the edge. I cum hard. My body’s quaking and tears are rolling down my face. Even with toys, I have not orgasmed like this since I was last with Jaylen.

When I was his, he forbad me from touching myself without his permission. I put my fingers in my mouth and suck off my salty goodness. I smirk and say, “bad girl.”